29 seconds. That's about all we could take of He Who Shall Not Be Named's acceptance speech for the Republican presidential nomination. Desiring to be informed, I did read the text of the address. It was something. To me, the King of Ludicrous Line Mountain was the candidate's brazen claim, "I alone can fix it."
There are two major conventions going on presently: the Republican National Convention in Cleveland and Comic-Con International in San Diego. Since the former is not exactly inspiring hope concerning the Quest for the White House, perhaps we can find the leadership our country needs in the latter. That's right: this looks like a job for superheroes. So let's dig into the lineups of DC and Marvel Comics and find ourselves an appealing Presidential ticket in each. For the purposes of our thought exercise, we're assuming that everyone is at least 35.
There was this guy in my college "Jesus and the Gospels" class who always seemed a bit too pleased with himself (no, not me, though that was likely true too). In our online discussion board he could be counted on to say something contrarian and try to have these "drop the mic" moments. One time he questioned Jesus' command to love our enemies. He thought it was hypocritical to talk about loving enemies. If you truly loved them, he argued, then you wouldn't call them "enemies."
Martha: Couple's therapy? Really?
Mary: We need to talk this out and I figured counseling would help us some...
Martha: It's couple's therapy, Mary. We are not a couple!
Mary: We're a couple of sisters.
Martha: Of all the stupid...
Mary: What was I supposed to do? Do you realize how many sermons have set us up as diametrically opposed? It's tearing us apart. We've been pitted against each other.
I was trying to write this science fiction short story about a guy who one night began shape-shifting, but couldn't control it. He transformed into whatever kind of person that frightened whoever he encountered; whoever they perceived was their enemy. It starts when he's pulled over and transforms into a black man. Panicked and acting erratically, the officers open fire when they think he's lunging for a gun.
The bookends to this week are the Declaration of Independence and the Parable of the Good Samaritan. On Monday we celebrated a document that announces, "We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal." On Sunday many churches will hear the gospel text Luke 10:25-37 in which Jesus declares all to be a neighbor deserving of love and mercy. What has happened in between those two days this week has spit in the faces of both ideas.
If you were to ask me why I am pursuing ordination into ministry, my best response would be to play "Helplessness Blues." Why have I dodged ordination for so long? I'd play that song. How do I feel about it? Cue it up one more time. I can't tell you why, but the song has burrowed its way into how I think about calling and vocation. I hesitate to explain what the song means to me because I feel like it robs it of some sort of magic. But consider this an open-handed moment that may or may not make sense.
